


Let the Twelve Year-Old Go

by BlackBat09



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-24
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-19 10:45:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3607227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackBat09/pseuds/BlackBat09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>filling a 200 followers prompt from a friend on tumblr:</p>
<p>micheoff. Michael gets attacked in the bathroom of a bar, Geoff is the hero of the hour who stumbles across the situation whilst going for a piss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Twelve Year-Old Go

So maybe Michael was a little drunk.  
  
And maybe when Michael was a little drunk, he liked to pick fights.  
  
And it might just so happen that when drunk Michael picked fights, he picked them with the biggest fucking dude he could find in the entire bar.  
  
And, for some crazy reason, the biggest guy in the bar didn't appreciate a tiny freckle-faced kid with a thick, slurred Jersey accent insulting his mother and making lewd gestures at him.  
  
Which is how Michael Jones found himself drunk off his ass and pinned up against a filthy bathroom wall by a man who looked like he ate iron filings for breakfast and shat out pure steel.  
  
"You wanna fuckin' say some of that again, pretty boy? Wanna fuckin' tell me what you're gonna do to my momma?" At this point, any rational person would've sobered up and probably been crying for their momma, begging forgiveness and mercy from the very tall, very beefy man with his shaved head and thick neck, but Michael was not a rational person.  
  
"Are you deaf or fuckin' stupid, huh? Pretty sure said I was gonna fuck her so good she forgets the shame of havin' your ugly ass for a son," Michael snarked back, gritting his teeth in a mockery of a grin that tugged at his split bottom lip painfully. His left eye was blacking nicely, but the right was still intact enough for him to see his attacker's face go even redder, winding up his fist for another strike when someone cleared his throat.  
  
"Uh, okay, this is all fuckin', y'know, very macho and cinematic and shit, but some of us would like to take a fuckin' piss without the sound of child abuse in the background, so, buddy, if you could just let the twelve year-old go, I'd really appreciate it. Whataya say?"  
  
Michael's attacker dropped him as he whirled around to face the intruder, and, with the way his head spun when he tried to stand, Michael decided the floor was perfectly comfy and he'd sit, thanks. It also gave him a decent view of the person who'd walked in on the little debacle, a hipster-looking guy with a ridiculously curly moustache, two full sleeves of tattoos, and a t-shirt that read "Make Mistakes," which Michael decided was definitely this guy's motto if he thought he was gonna get anywhere with the hulking mass of anger and cheap whiskey that had put Michael in his current state.  
  
"Who the fuck are you?"  
  
"Call me a concerned citizen," the hipster drawled, shrugging and shoving his thumbs through his belt loops. "Prison's not kind to guys who beat up kids, even if they are being mouthy little shits who probably deserve it, and you seem like too nice of a dude to get shanked while you're tryna do your business." A weak, drunken chuckle from the Jersey mess on the floor earned him a sleepy-eyed glare as his 'savior' continued to talk.  
  
"Look, I think the kid's learned his lesson. Just head back out to the bar and enjoy the rest of your night, 'kay buddy?"  
  
"Sorry, "buddy," but he ain't learned enough if he can still talk shit. So how 'bout you take your leak and get on your way 'fore you join him?" The mustached man sighed, pulling his hands from his waist and shaking his head sadly.  
  
"Man, I hate having to do this," he complained, voice a high, nasally whine that Michael didn't have time to comprehend before a tattooed fist hit his attacker in the stomach, hard, making him wheeze and bend forward just in time to get a face full of elbow that knocked him into the bathroom wall and out cold.  
  
Michael was still gaping at the douchebag's prone body when he felt an arm slide around his chest and a shoulder fit into his armpit, the hipster dude apparently not done with his Good Samaritan act for today.  
  
"Steady, kid," he said gently as he lifted Michael to his feet, and the drunken boy felt his lip split open again when he pouted.  
  
"'M not a fuckin' kid, an' I coulda taken him," he slurred petulantly, getting a hyena-like cackle out of his rescuer as he slowly led Michael out of the bathroom.  
  
"Dude, you can barely take gravity right now, let alone that fuckin' asshole. You're lucky I stepped in before he turned you into a twink pancake."  
  
"Fuck you," Michael muttered, annoyed by being called a twink and this guy and this bar and this whole stupid fucking state of fucking Texas, but especially by how gently he was being handled by a guy he'd just seen knock someone out in one hit.  
  
"See, usually I'd take you up on that, but I think tonight, you need to get home," the man said casually, using his free arm to flag down a taxi and shove Michael in the back seat. The Jersey man slurred out his address and tried to dig out his wallet, but the hipster asshole chucked a fifty at the driver and told him to keep the change.  
  
"What the fuck, man? I'm not a fuckin' charity case, I can pay for my own goddamn cab!" The guy sighed and rolled his eyes, holding out a hand.  
  
"Gimme your phone."  
  
"No, don't you- wait, what?"  
  
"Give me your phone," he repeated, sounding exasperated, and Michael managed to fumble it out of his pocket and hand it over. The guy fiddled with it for a minute, typing something in before handing it back. "If you're really so against a little help, text me when you're sober and we'll work out how you'll repay me." Michael squinted down at the device before looking back up at the dude, who chuckled and shook his head.  
  
"Get home safe, idiot." With that, he closed the cab door and left Michael sitting there befuddled.  
  
The next morning, when Michael got enough coffee and aspirin in his body to be a semi-coherent human being, he went through his contacts, searching for an unfamiliar name. He laughed aloud when he found it, before dropping his phone and clutching his aching head.  
  
_Geoff (the guy who saved your sweet ass)_

**Author's Note:**

> Aw, man, I love writing Michael. What a little shit.
> 
> If you want, hit me up on tumblr: [blackbat09](blackbat09.tumblr.com)


End file.
